


Sunder Unto Ashes

by zovinar



Series: The Tiger Prince [1]
Category: Code Geass
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Warnings, Childhood Trauma, Ensemble Cast, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Manical Laughter, Murder, POV Alternating, POV Outsider, Platonic Relationships, Slow Burn, Strategy & Tactics, author is a pov whore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24414838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zovinar/pseuds/zovinar
Summary: Sometimes after getting shot and then piloting a Knightmare for the first time with broken ribs, you end up passing out afterward in rather inconvenient places. Sometimes then the person who finds you isn’t anyone from your unit but instead a girl from a rebel cell who takes you back to their base to make sure you don’t die. Sometimes you’re then reported to have killed someone rather important and subsequently field executed in absentia—sometimes this doesn’t occur before you’re even awake for it.Then sometimes, instead of finding out about your miraculous survival, your best friend who thought you might be dead instead hears about that report of said execution from his sister when he gets home. Sometimes he then spends the next week or so in a fugue state, not really caring about anything much at all while you’re off busy starting a resistance campaign based around safeguarding civilians.Sometimes that changes things.
Relationships: C.C. & Lelouch Lamperouge | Lelouch vi Britannia, Kouzuki Kallen & Kururugi Suzaku, Kururugi Suzaku & Lelouch Lamperouge | Lelouch vi Britannia, Kururugi Suzaku/Lelouch Lamperouge | Lelouch vi Britannia, Nunnally vi Britannia & Lelouch Lamperouge | Lelouch vi Britannia
Series: The Tiger Prince [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871281
Comments: 140
Kudos: 160





	1. Phase 0.00 - Set Up

**Author's Note:**

> butterfly effect role reversal au prologue! diverges immediately after shinjuku
> 
> prob considered a slowburn ig? this is less a 00 fic and more a suzaku-and-lelouch fic but also they're like married plus hey all of us have dynamic relationships with the entire cast also everyone had their mental breakdowns early so we can get that trauma shit outta the way

Lelouch Lamperouge is dead. 

He’s been dead since Suzaku fell, dead since a corpse looked into his eyes and asked him to grant her wish, dead since he held a gun to his brother’s head and shot.

Dead since his best friend was reported to have been killed in a field execution as the one responsible for Clovis’s assassination. Dead since Nunnally, frantic, was the one who had confronted him with the news when he’d finally made it home.

Dead since he had to explain to his sister what had happened and why, dead since they had both wept to the memory of the boy carried them both through the war—Lelouch emotionally, Nunnally physically.

(She knows it’s his fault, he couldn’t hide his distress from her, couldn’t hide his inner turmoil from a blind girl who sees all too well when it comes to hearts)

Dead, dead, dead, Lelouch Lamperouge is dead, a fragment, a memory, nothing more.

He is nothing.

Less than zero.

He does not care when C.C. barges back into his life, numb to Nunnally finally cornering him to know the full truth, scrapes up only a hint of relief when he hears of a mysterious “Eleven” who spirits Euphemia to safety out from some kind of internal squabble in the Britannian forces before vanishing. Barely twitches at Cornelia’s staged extermination, just notes with a muted sigh that not as many innocent lives had been lost. Is listless with the Student Council in a way that makes Kallen unsettled and Shirley fret. Milly watches him with a bone-deep worry sometimes, fear not of but for him instead, fear for what would happen if something pushed him, but she hasn’t known him for all these years without seeing past the exhumed mask he now wears to his classes. If the facade shatters, they both know enough to fear what may be underneath. But she worries, and he does not care. Cannot care.

Lelouch Lamperouge is dead after all, a husk of a human being, the cracked shell of a shed skin, barren and empty. Useless.

But.

But when whispers and rumors start of some ghostly interference with Britannia’s movements, something inside him starts to stir, awakening to scratch at the bars of his self-imposed cage.

Because…because in Saitama, the casualties were far lower than what should have been expected. Cornelia’s raids have been doing damage, but many of them have uncovered only skeletal staffs and gutted stores. Protest graffiti has become more directed, taken on specific phrasing. 

Because, in the remains of that shattered hotel floor, even through the shaky camera, he recognizes the figure in white. The one who has thrown Britannia into such chaos.

Lelouch Lamperouge is dead. But for _him_ though, for him he will return. For him, Lelouch vi Britannia will live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : )c visit me @[stovinar](https://twitter.com/stovinar) for my twit to hear me psychoanalyze this smug knifecat bitch (and talk about suzaku’s ass). comments are love! invest and ask away


	2. Phase 1.01 - Opening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a "start as close to the middle" gal so we're jumping right in and you guys are gonna roll with it. obviously I'll be backfilling some stuff but still, vroom vroom. fortunately that means the exciting shit's all frontloaded so have fun gang.
> 
> (if I butcher any irl or canon lore fr lmk)
> 
> anyway, happy birthday suzaku! have uh fun…?

Euphemia li Britannia is afraid. 

Of course, she is more _angry_ than that, furious that these people are resorting to terrorizing innocent civilians just to make a point. That poor girl from earlier…she had been shaking with fear and Euphie refuses to regret revealing herself if she can help people.

But she is still…new to this. Still young, inexperienced, sixteen.

Afraid. 

Sixteen, angry and afraid and glaring back at the man with the sword, the leader of the terrorists here, because she refuses to take back her words. 

“How dare you,” spits the man with the sword, “I do this for the honor of Japan!”

“How can anything this horrible be honorable!?” she snaps back, “Those people and that girl…they’re innocent; this isn’t honor, it’s a disgrace!”

“You Britannian bitch,” he snarls, storming up to her and she can’t help her small wince when she sees the backhand coming and—

The windows along the wall to their side shatter.

Each one, pane after pane of formally scenic view turning into a glimmering shower of glass, heralding a…

In the darkness, all she can tell of the figure are snapshots of impressions: a flutter of white that gleams unearthly bright, a glint of metal, a dark hood, a pale mask like a half moon above tan skin and a firm mouth.

The image finally resolves into not a spirit but a person as he touches down, but the wrap jacket is light and almost gauzy as it flows back around to settle, wide sleeves seeming to float; a funeral shroud.

And it looks like 

(Euphemia shivers)

a ghost.

“Yūrei!” gasps a man behind her even as she stumbles back.

“What on earth—” breathes the leader.

Euphemia is barely close enough to see but with dark pants and shirt underneath, the stark white jacket might as well have flown in itself, a sweep of light fabric swirling about with a mind of its own, practically glowing in the dark of the room. 

The figure’s head tips to the side, surveying the room before he gives a what might be a small sigh, sweeping some debris side with his foot before stepping forward. 

“Who are you? Stay back!” the leader snarls, hand going to the hill of his sword. “Or do you not care for the princess’s life then?”

“Please,” says the person, soft and dismissive, “you must know by now that the only reason Cornelia has yet to act is because of Euphemia. If you hurt her sister, the Viceroy will obliterate you and damn the consequences.”

Euphie bites her lip. As much as she’d wish otherwise, he’s more than right.

The man in white murmurs something in another language—Japanese?—before turning to the terrorists’ leader. “Kusakabe…” his voice is lighter than expected when he switches back to Britannian, “why are you killing these people?” The question is quiet, almost innocent.

“Excuse me!?”

A hand rests on one of his swords for just a moment, the same style as Kusakabe’s, although the second one is shorter. “Your people threw a man off the roof. He was…” his head tilts as if listening, “a simple craftsman.”

Kusakabe splutters. “He was a Britannian! They all are!” 

“So then they must all die here? The representatives from other countries that struggle against Britannia as well? The families here on vacation, the staff, the students? Highschoolers, Kusakabe really?”

 _“Yes,”_ Kusakabe practically spits. “They are all trash. Mangey dogs that need to be put in their place, to be put down. They all deserve as such, their diseased whelps and those who beg for scraps at the Britannian table as well.” 

Even with the man’s eyes covered by his half moon mask, Euphemia still catches the small flicker of wry amusement. “You disgust me. You stand here, claiming to be acting upon the will of the JLF and Japan itself yet Tohdoh never would have sanctioned something like this. Do these men know that? Or that you would throw their children to the furnace as well if it would aid you? You lack the honor and morals to consider it too far a price, you’ve condoned such before.”

A small outcry of denial goes up in the men as Kusakabe’s eyes go to slits and he bears his teeth. “Are you trying to _threaten_ me?”

“No. I’m sorry, let me make my intentions a bit more clear,” says the ghostly figure in white softly and pulls out. A gun. He pulls out a gun and has it leveled at Kusakabe before the men around him can even remember he is not an ally. “Whatever you planned for here involves the harming of civilians. Truly? I don’t care why, but I am putting a stop to it.”

Kusakabe’s hand freezes on the hilt of his sword as the man behind Euphemia goes tense and she flinches as the barrel of his gun digs into the small of her back.

“D-drop your weapon! Drop your weapon I said!” he stammers but when the man in white’s head tips almost lazily in their direction Euphemia can feel him shrink back behind her. 

Another terrorist seems to work himself up to pointing his gun at the ghost but even as fast as he is, he’s too close as lightning quick the ghost kicks out, knocking the weapon from his hands without his own so much as twitching.

“Stop.” The last man who had drawn his gun in time shuffles forward a step but his voice trembles, dripping anxiety. “Stop, or I’ll shoot I will.”

“Then shoot,” says the ghost with icy certainty, but the man on the other side of the gun is clearly too unnerved to do it. The barest of a smile touches the masked man’s face. “‘the only ones who should kill are those who are prepared to be killed themselves,’ after all.” 

The gunman goes dead white at that, one of his comrades stumbling back with another gasp of that Japanese word, but Kusakabe goes red, sudden rage flushing his face.

“You—!” he swears. “That! How do you know about what— That was what that whore’s useless, weakling son kept saying!” 

The other man is deathly still for a moment, then tilts his gun and calmly shoots Kusakabe in the knee. He weathers Kusakabe’s swearing with the same icy air of indifference.

“Well? Was he wrong?”

Kusakabe just glares but the ghost disregards him, holstering the gun before resting a hand on his hip next to his two swords. Still, his attention flickers back to Kusakabe as the man gives a wheezy laugh.

“You…I should’ve known; You’re really him, huh? A ghost twice over—a dead man walking! I really should’ve guessed.” His voice snaps back to a snarl. “You fucking traitor, you sold your country out and now even your new masters too; have you no shame? And yet you speak of honor! What are you even loyal to then, was it those filthy Britannian brats?” 

“I suppose I can believe that to you the mere concept of having a friend could be a crime,” the shrouded man says with an undertone of warning but Kusakabe just grins wider, smug and unhinged even as the air around the ghost seems to freeze.

“Bah, as if that sniveling welp and useless cripple were worth anyone’s time, but even now they have you clinging to them, the dead chasing the dead— _yūrei,”_ he calls the man again, like an accusation. “ _I_ am loyal to my country! But you…hah! I knew those rats were cursed, all you did after they came was follow him around like a mangy dog. We should have just kill—”

Lightning quick, a blade flashes out, cutting a decisive slash through Kusakabe’s throat. Euphie can only pale as blood arcs out, trailing the sword through the air like a ribbon.

“Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe Josui,” says the ghost as the other man reels back, hands clutching at his neck, “you are a disgrace to Japan.”

He steps forward, blade leveled at the choking man who cowers away from him. “You speak of killing children for no reason but to satisfy your pathetic, damaged ego. You even spoke for it before. Yes,” he says voice icy, “I knew. I knew even back then.”

“You…” Kusakabe gurgles with his final breaths, some dark revelation chasing away the final light in eyes, “it was _you…”_

The man barely looks at the corpse he created, simply flicks his blade to the side, ridding it of excess blood before calmly wiping down and sheathing his sword, but it makes Euphie want to shiver despite how similar it is to what she’s seen Cornelia do countless times before.

His head turns, obviously eying the men in the room who seem frozen, locked in shocked disbelief at the death of their leader. “Well? Go on,” he says, voice dripping disdain. “Go crawling back to Tohdoh and the JLF if you dare, but do not think that you will be forgiven for this stunt by even them.”

“I—” the man still holding a gun on the ghost stammers, “I have a family.”

Yūrei waves him off. “Don’t we all? Fine, go home and apologize to them with the knowledge that others tonight will not return.”

The men flee, stumbling and stammering but he doesn’t spare them a second glance, instead turning to her.

“Princess, please come this way.”

“W-what?” Euphie flinches at the sudden attention, eyes flicking to the fresh bloodstain in the carpet.

“I—” He pauses, a hand reaching up under his hood before the man gives a small nod. “Yes, I know. I have her here. Move to phase two, I’ll be down in a minute.” He turns back to her. “The rest of the hostages have been freed; evacuation is currently in process. But…If you don’t mind, I plan to make a spectacle of rescuing you.”

“Why?”

“Optics,” he sighs. “I’m not happy with how Cornelia handled this situation and I want the Viceroy to know it.”

She instinctively shies away when he gestures towards her again, but… “Did—were you really friends with a Brittanian boy when you were growing up?”

The mask gleams in the darkened room as it tips towards her, a half moon on the horizon with the hint of blood stark on the white surface. “He was and always will be my best friend. His little sister might as well have been my own.”

“Oh.” 

He’s shorter than expected when she steps up to him, shorter than even her maybe, but the arms he wraps around her as he hefts her up are steady and strong; one under her thighs, one across her back, her chin over his shoulder as he tucks her against him securely.

Somehow it feels…safe.

“Please try not to scream in my ear if you can,” her unlikely savior murmurs to her with the shadow of a smile. “He was always bad about that.”

* * *

Cornelia can feel it in the air; tension ready to snap, stillness ready to break as sweat beads at her temples but she is still frozen, _paralyzed_ , her sister is there her sister Euphemia she cannot lose— 

A sound.

“No…” Her chin jerks up as the echo of a detonation reaches them. “Euphie!” Cornelia bellows as an entire floor of the hotel’s glass windows shatter and explode out.

Then she almost chokes because there on the far side of the floor, there she spies a flash of fluttering pink and her eyes zero in on the back of the ghostly figure in white that’s holding her sister trapped to his chest, Euphie’s eyes wide with shock as they meet hers. The person turns, looking over his shoulder enough for Cornelia to see the smooth, blank surface of a mask, stark in the night. Expressionless, yet it seems to somehow radiate a sense of…disappointed. He turns back away, dismissing her, then

jumps.

Taking Euphemia li Britannia along with him.

* * *

“Hey,” says C.C., managing to eat her pizza while upside-down with her legs thrown over the back of the couch. “What’s wrong with your face.”

Lelouch doesn’t look away from the TV. His smile is small, almost in the shape of something gentle, but harsh intensity pours off of him, blazing through his eyes as his Geass lights up, pulsing with power.

* * *

That night, Suzaku braces a hand on the wall in his room as he finally lets himself slump, head falling to thump against it. His hand spasms on the grainy surface and he chokes back a gasp, sliding to his knees as the weight of his past sins catch up to him. His fingers dig into the wall and drag down down down as he drowns in his own mind, not noticing when his fingertips crack, chafe, and bleed, leaving fat streaks of red that drip to the floor and soak into the hem of his white haori.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I know suzaku’s dialogue may sound kinda ooc, but keep in mind he did have a classical noble upbringing and is used to formal military talk. he also might be a little lot trying to channel lelouch for his speeches)
> 
> alright gang, longfic can get tough for me so if you can, please comment! (*^^)/ they really help feed the creative machine. getting into discussions is fun and inspiring bit it's nice know you got to the end of the chap and slammed that kudos button ineffectually on instinct as I've totally done before. also, I'm chatty.


	3. Phase 1.02 - Opening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> no promises but imma try and shoot for an update around every other week. offweeks will for for ridding myself of other 00 bs such as some aus I've had floating around or other garbage horny gc infects me with (or just catching up). 
> 
> anyway, onto the hero of this story! love her (✲ծ‿ծ)

Kallen has to stop herself from vibrating out of her skin.

They did it. They fucking did it, they saved the hostages, they made a mark on the world, that made a difference that everyone could _see_ , one that couldn’t be swept under the rug as part of the JLF or coincidence, one that people had to _face_.

Of course, today all the talk is about the hotel and Yūrei, the ghost; about the students from their school who had gotten shut up in the hostage situation—but, but some had been about how what Kusakabe had done was wrong, about how it was an even greater betrayal of _Japan_.

People are clamoring about how an inside source heard Yūrei (the princess, it must have been) accuse Kusakabe of acting without authorization from the JLF, berating him for abandoning his principles and his people before he had spirited the young Princess Euphemia away to safety, the vengeful ghost leaving only the fallen corpse of the wicked behind.

Watching Suzaku jump out of the fucking building from that high up with the princess and then slow himself down enough for a safe landing with basically no equipment just by skimming down the side of the hotel had been insane, by the way. She hadn’t blamed any of the recused hostages that were in the boats below for mistaking him for some sort of spirit. Even Nina had been transfixed by the spectacle, too caught up with her own particular mix of awe and scientific curiosity to fear the supposed “Eleven” as he’d carefully lowered the princess down into the boat that held the rest of the Student Council.

Not that even that stopped Nina from flushing and stammering as Princess Euphemia slumped into the girl, fanning herself and giggling at the adrenaline crash. Nina’s squeak when the princess had said, “just Euphie, please,” was so adorable Kallen’d had to look sharply away to hide her smile.

She…she really hopes Suzaku doesn’t mind the name he got stuck with. Kinda ironic it’s the same as the nickname that girl’s been using for him, but it’s still his own damn fault for wearing white on a stealth op, the lunatic. Kallen doesn’t care how much he likes it.

Of course, all of her good mood gets ruined when Kallen finally makes it to the student council room for lunch and Lelouch keeps like…ugh, _looking_ at her. Not to say he doesn’t usually do this shit, just fuckin staring at her with his chin in his palm and his dead ass eyes, but he’s maxed out on his bad vibes today.

Kallen does not like Lelouch Lamperouge. Kallen, in fact, kinda hates Lelouch Lamperouge. He’s just so…annoying, entitled, haughty, creepy, weird, _dead_.

Except, not so dead today. Not just the empty, void of a boy that exists more than lives; the boy she’s barely seen speak except to his sister, not even when the president hassles him, and the like _five_ words she’s heard him say away from Nunnally were all rude or pretentious, pure Britannian BS—but today? Today he’s almost electric, all humming, inert energy under the surface like a goddamn livewire and just as dangerous.

As usual, Kallen wants to set him on fire.

Seriously though, he creeps her out, always, _always_ watching her and sometimes there’s something like a restrained violence to him that she can feel under her skin—which is wild coming from Ashford’s most infamous, disaffected slacker.

The only thing Lelouch has going for him is that she knows that something about Shinjuku or whatever fucked him up. Nunnally had pulled her aside one day to apologize for Lelouch, saying her brother had lost someone, which okay, she can get, and she won’t deny softening on him a _little_ for being so goddamn abrasive—it’s hard to let new people into your life after a heavy loss, Kallen knows that—but it doesn’t get him off the hook for being freaky as _fuck_. Just…right now even the _teachers_ are getting creeped out by him. And Shirley? God, Shirley’s so fucking nice; she tries at least, Kallen’s never heard that undertone of a sneer that Lelouch gets when he says “Eleven” from Shirley. But this shit with Lelouch has so obviously got her out of her mind with worry, and when she’s so gone on him already too, and he deserves to get the shit kicked out of him for that alone.

At the very least Kallen is good enough to tell the difference between his temper tantrums and meltdowns—or rather to tell that all the outbursts _were_ meltdowns; the only tantrum he’s had was when he’d carefully and deliberately dumped five folders worth of paperwork all over the floor in a rather blank faced, sedate show of anger from an argument with Milly that everyone else had missed. But…yeah. Him throwing that radio out the window was definitely their nominally passive, apathetic, soft-spoken Vice President losing control over _something_ , he’d even apologized to Nunnally about it.

She knows you can’t exactly control a meltdown but still, Kallen doesn’t deserve this—hell _Shirley_ doesn’t deserve this, or Lelouch’s sister who’s just so…so pure and gentle despite her situation and who doesn’t deserve the frown Kallen’s seen in her face sometimes when she turns towards her brother.

Even Rivalz and the Pres know something’s up, you’d have to be blind not to, but Rivalz seems to be trying his best to pretend the problem away with good vibes and Milly’s way better at hiding her thoughts than she seems.

…Actually, even Suzaku can tell something’s up, but because he is who he fucking is, his reaction was over the top extra and made no sense. Kallen had told Suzaku about Lelouch when she’d sorta briefed him about the guy on the radio who had gotten them all out of Shinjuku safely, just because Lelouch had mentioned Shinjuku that one time and how familiar his voice had felt, and Suzaku had gone still then white and _then_ he started hyperventilating while crying silently before standing abruptly and waking away to have a rather self-contained meltdown in the corner of the room. It had been tidy in the way of long practice and thus very upsetting.

But yeah, Lelouch is being extra creepy, freaky, and weird today. Kallen didn’t expect him to be fawning all over Milly, Shirley, and Nina the way everyone else is because of the hotel shit, but why the _fuck_ is he watching her so hard today?

She’s so happy she’s ditching early to go pick up those Knightmares with Suzaku. Kyoto came through and Kallen is _not_ gonna let Lelouch Lamperouge ruin her day. 

Fuck him.

* * *

“—Thanked her for not screaming in his ear too much, and then he said, ‘remember, being an observer still makes you a participant, Princess,’ to her, and, and, um…” Nina tries not to inch away from Lelouch as his gaze gets even sharper. It feels like it’s more attention than she’d had on her in the last year collectively and it’s definitely more attention than he’s ever paid to her before. Not to say that he doesn’t pay attention to her normally? But she’s never seen him this…intent.

“And the ghost?”

“He was…” starts Nina and Lelouch’s face snaps to rapt attention. “Interesting. I mean, he was,” she wrings her hands. ’An Eleven,’ she can’t bring herself to say, not after yesterday. But… “he was nice, a-and not really scary I guess. But he also…” Awe fills her voice. “He jumped, it wasn’t an exaggeration. The physics of it are nearly impossible—but he did! He jumped from that high up and still landed safely with the princess.”

A sharp breath brings her attention back to Lelouch and something in his eyes glimmers.

Oh. Oh no.

“Are you…m-maybe, um. Interested? In…in Princess Euphemia?” she forces out, already fretting at the thought of even conceptually competing with this beautiful boy, full of dainty grace who’s even more delicate looking than the princess. But the instant flash of horror and revulsion that wrinkles his nose and destroys any sense of aloofness he’d been holding onto has her collapsing down onto the table with relief. 

Oh thank god, she’s not the only person on the Student Council who’s not straight.

Lelouch looks a little smug when she finally catches his eye again. “Ah, I see. She is rather pretty isn’t she? All that fluttery hair and such,” he teases, voice a touch self-satisfied but not cruel as her flush starts to crawl down her neck. “No, I’m much more interested in what you remember about the ghost, Yūrei.” He says the foreign word with more fluency than she’s heard from anyone else so far, even as bites down on his lip to try and contain what looks like what might’ve grown into a rather wicked grin.

“Do you think Y-yūrei is pretty then, Lelouch?” The grainy, telephoto lens camera shots had been more indistinct then not, but still striking.

“Heh. Well, I certainly hope he is, under all that white. Hey, I heard that Euphemia smells like lavender and bubblegum, is it true?”

“L-lelouch!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (for the record, the sneer lelouch gets when he says eleven is very much so along the lines of "the fact that I'm saying this word makes me want to tear out my tongue")


	4. Phase 1.03 - Opening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> backfill! lots of backfill

So. The thing with Kaguya starts like this: they, their small tiny cell, get a call from Kyoto. 

Direct line. Video conference. Urgent, apparently.

A conference that is just as urgently interrupted almost as soon as it starts, a commotion kicking up from the other end. 

“Young Mistress—!”

“No. I need to be certain.”

A girl in traditional dress appears on the screen as she pushes her way to the front, even younger than Kallen, eyes narrowed. “…Well?” she snaps, “where is he then?”

“H-huh?” Ohgi stammers as Kallen watches a frown trace across Suzaku’s face from the corner of her eye, tucked as he is in the opposite corner to be completely out of sight.

The girl’s temper seems to snap behind her courtly, polite looking mask. “Where is Kururugi Suzaku,” she demands, voice ice.

The bottom drops out of Kallen’s stomach. Fuck. “S— Kururugi is _dead_ , isn’t he? He—”

The girl holds up an arrow, face blank as she balances it delicately between her fingers.

Kallen stutters to a stop.

None of them know where Suzaku had gotten the fucking bow from or when he’d learned to use one in the first place but he’d still managed to shoot an arrow with a note tied to it in the dirt right between Cornailia’s feet the day after Saitama. 

_‘Is it right to punish the innocent simply because the guilty cannot be found?’_

For him the message had probably been more important, but Kallen had appreciated watching Cornelia’s guard scramble around like a kicked anthill a hell of a lot more.

Apparently she should’ve been more worried about the _fucking arrows_.

“I ask again,” says the girl, stately, regal, and with an undertone of pissed. “Where. Is Kururugi Suzaku.”

“K—”

But Suzaku’s already easing his way into plain view of the camera.

The girl goes dead white, attention laser focused on him. Hands clench, eyes wide, breath stuttered, she’s still for one frozen moment.

Then she huffs. “So you have become a ghost then, Cousin?”

Suzaku smiles in the shape of something fond. “Hello Kaguya.”

What.

“How did you know?” Suzaku asks after a loaded pause but Kaguya just huffs again.

“Suzaku, _you’re_ the one who taught me how to fletch arrows.”

“Ah,” Suzaku ruffles his hair, looking chagrined. “Well, you were lucky it was me and not one of your instructors, you were terrible at it.”

“They were at least better than anything _he_ could do! From what I remember, he just mauled your feathers until you pushed him into the pond.”

“No, I put worms in his hair that time, I didn’t want to ruin any more of my supplies. And that’s not an accomplishment anyway, her arrows were better than either of yours.”

“You never gave me proof! If you’re going to say that a blind girl can fletch arrows better than me you need to prove it or I won’t believe you.”

 _“Suzaku!”_ hisses Kallen as she leans in towards him, finally losing her patience and trying to ask him what the _fuck_ without causing a fuss but instead the girl blinks as if coming out of a daze before her gaze in on Kallen instead.

“What. Goodness Suzaku, is that a _girl?”_

“Ah, Kaguya-sama…” says a voice from off screen but she just waves them off.

Suzaku pressed a hand to Kallen’s back, urging her forward. “This is Kouzuki Kallen. She’s the ace from the group that adopted me, so to speak.”

“’So to speak,’ hah! If I didn’t know you better I’d say you deliberately hijacked them, but you have more of a tendency to trip yourself into such positions of power and opportunity.”

“Actually, he um. Fell.” Kallen breaks in. “He overstressed his cracked ribs right after Shinjuku and ah. Passed out. And fell into the ghetto.”

“My god.”

“I found him when I was on my way back to our base and by the time he was finally awake he was already…dead, reportedly.” 

“Suzaku you have the devil’s luck”

“My luck was always better than his.”

Lady Kaguya gives an incredibly undignified snort. “Like that’s saying anything at all, no luck at all would be better than his! Bad luck, awful, terrible, horrible, no good luck all the time.” She frowns. “Wherever is the oni to your yūrei?”

Suzaku’s expression slams shut so quickly Kallen flinches. On the screen, Kaguya’s mouth tightens with sympathy. “I pray he was able to escape Shinjuku,” he says with that dead echo to his voice and Kaguya goes bones white, even paler than before.

“Then you both were…?”

Suzaku says nothing.

“I see. Well!” Kaguya starts with forced levity, “I suppose I’ll need to be the one to curb your innate idiocy in the meantime then.”

Suzaku gives a small, broken smile, eyes warming like the dawn’s first light on frosty ground. “My thanks, Cousin.”

Now here they are weeks later, where “help” apparently means Knightmares now—as if that’s all. The obvious backing they’re getting from somewhere in Kyoto has its own draw of support, from recruits that they originally hauled out of Cornelia’s raids to deals on supplies and (probably most helpfully) input from Kaguya herself which is invaluable because Suzaku is a fucking idiot.

Knightmares though. It’s a great and terrible gift that Kaguya’d had to half swindle Suzaku into accepting in the first place, hypocritical weird-ass pacifist that he is, but Kaguya is a tricky little minx in the way of most younger siblings and Suzaku is, again, a moron.

("Kaguya said we should at least take a look at them,” Suzaku had said because he’s a massive fucking simp when he wants to be. “Something about this set is different.")

 _These_ Knightmares though…

“You can’t mod it? You foisting your junk off on us or something?”

The mechanic frowns back at Kallen. “It’s what the lady said to offer. We have others but this Knightmare’s got the Britannian layout for controls and that’s that.”

“You—!”

“Kallen, it’s fine,” Suzaku interrupts. “They said it’s a prototype they captured, right? They probably can’t refit it.”

“More trouble than it’s worth,” grouses the mechanic. “You’re lucky we were able to maintenance it. A lot of the parts looked to be customs, we only got most of them after the Sutherlands came out.”

Suzaku just laughs, shading his eyes as he looks up at the slim, fragile looking white and blue Knightmare frame. “A training prototype huh…”

“Yep, the Knightmare Accelerator Yield Seven, Mobility Unit prototype. It’s the fastest thing most of us have seen but the controls are crazy delicate so most people’ve passed in that alone.

“That and the fact that the controls are in the Brit style to begin with,” grumbles Kallen, eyeing the mechanic who shrugs.

Suzaku just laughs again. “It really is for the best, Kaguya was always like this. No this is the layout I was trained on.”

The mechanic gives him a weird look at that but Suzaku has already hoisted himself up the tow line and into the Knightmare.

“Ignore him,” says Kallen and the mechanic sighs.

“What about you? The lady said you could have your pick.

Suzaku gives her a questioning look as he climbs out of the KAY-7 MU and jumps down neatly, so she’s not obligated to choose whatever he’d like her to.

It’s odd. Months ago Kallen’s honestly thought Suzaku was scum; a fucking traitorous piece of shit who abandoned his country and his people, no better than a Britannian dog. He’d sworn himself to the nation she’d wanted above all to obliterate from the Earth.

Now she almost feels ashamed of herself back then, for wanting revenge over wanting the best for her people. 

Ever since Suzaku had stumbled into their war room when he’d heard about the start of Saitama, white-faced and shaky and demanding to know what was being done for the civilians while the rest of them had only thought of how they could support their fellow rebels caught in the zone she’d felt it. 

Ever since he’d mustered them with the tactics of military discipline to get into the ghetto and evacuate hundreds (hundreds, _hundreds_ ) of people through the unguarded sewer system beneath the city under their feet, she’d felt it.

Ever since, Kallen had felt the call of her true reason of rebellion: to help her people and those not able to help themselves (to help people like Naoto).

Now? Damn him, now she wants to make Suzaku proud.

“I’ll… My Glasgow, I’m fine with a replacement or refit of that.”

Suzaku watches her sidelong as the mechanic scratches his head. “Yeah? We got a few different styles here because they’re being phased out. Any preference on weapons systems?”

“Armor unit, the type they use for rescues and construction.”

“Hmm…those are a lot lighter on their feet without all the built in weapons—and still gun compatible if you need it,” muses the mechanic. “All while packing quite the punch, probably for the best, they’ll take hits from those Sutherlands better. I’ve got a few you can check out.”

“Yes please,” Says Kallen and Suzaku gives her a small, swoon worthy smile (that would probably be more charming if he wasn’t such a fucking idiot). 

Damn him though, she’s proud of herself.

* * *

Suzaku’s beat by the time they get back to the hideout; not exactly _tired_ -tired, just wrung out maybe. At the very least he’s happy to hand off the logistics for housing the Knightmares to Ohgi and the man seems happy enough to take the job off of his hands as well. 

Ohgi’s good at stuff like that, Suzaku’s noticed; good at the general organizing and overseeing needed and with the type of patience to match that would’ve been necessary for anyone who wanted to go into a career of wrangling small mobs of unruly children (Suzaku is under no illusions that he would have been considered anything but a terror in the classroom as a small child).

Still, it’s nice to have Kallen at his back as they head up to the more office-like area of the hideout to go over some of the papers Kaguya had sent over regarding the Knightmares.

“Are you really okay with taking the KAY-7 instead of a proper frame?” Kallen asks after a pause.

“It’s…” Suzaku sighs. “I suppose if we do end up using them,” (and Suzaku can practically hear Kallen roll her eyes at that but he really doesn’t plan on using Knightmares if they don’t need them), “it might be tough to set up the comms relay with the other systems but…”

“But still worth it?”

Suzaku nods, stepping into the room that’s sort of become his half-office—and freezes in the doorway. It’s so abrupt that Kallen walks smack into his back and makes one of her half enraged confused sounds.

Sprawled across his desk and flicking through his paperwork is a boy. A boy who turns to meet his gaze with hungry tiger eyes.

“Oh? Ah, there you are.”

 _Angry_ tiger eyes, even if his smile is saccharine sweet and his voice drips mirth. The boy rolls onto his stomach, grin pressing into his crossed arms as he unconsciously swings his legs. 

“Welcome back, my dear ghost.”

Suzaku is not looking forward to this conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> չ( ᐛ յ ∠)_


	5. Phase 1.04 - Opening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heh >:3c

“Welcome back, my dear ghost,” says Lelouch fucking Lamperouge, all cloyingly nice and _gross_ and ew. He’s stretched out on Suzaku’s desk like a lazy cat, smile half-hidden by his crossed arms and eyes all sultry and knowing, like full “I have arranged myself to look both sexy and intimidating” mode which is just…gross. But also weird as fuck which is almost impressive because Kallen didn’t think he’d be able to top earlier today so soon and then he just. Smirks at them.

Kallen takes a steadying breath so she doesn’t run over there and kick the shit out of him.

This is probably the weirdest thing she’s seen him do yet, like what the fuck does this even mean? Hello?? What is he doing here and _how_ and WHY. And the tone, the tone is all _wrong_ for Lelouch; sly and cutting with a knife-sharp edge of meanness underneath. He dug up his own haori from somewhere, somehow. Not ashy grey like the rest of theirs, but soot dark, an inverse of Suzaku’s white haori and…and Kallen has no ideas what’s going on but Lelouch is a drama whore so it has to mean _something_.

Lelouch leans up and twists to the side, waving a paper at them and not even looking up from where he’s still half sitting on Suzaku’s desk. “Come look, I wrote you a speech,” he says, again speaking—

“You speak _Japanese!?”_ is the first of many, _many_ questions that try and spill from her mouth. “You know _Suzaku?”_

“I live in Japan, of course I speak the language,” Lelouch says mildly then rolls his eyes at her gaping. “We grew up together and honestly that’s all I care to tell you.”

“A speech?” asks Suzaku curiously.

“No, Suzaku what the _fuck—_ “

“Don’t be silly,” chides Lelouch with a sort of patient smile that reads as a mild threat. “After a move like last night’s? If you don’t head off the media cycle it could very well ruin you.”

“No,” snarls Kallen with a decisive slash in the air, cutting him off. “What the fuck are you _doing_ here!?” Answer or I swear to god, Lamperouge—” Suzaku puts a hand on her shoulder, steadying her slightly.

Lelouch’s eyes land on her cooly. “I am here for _him_ ,” he says with an echo of that deadness back in his voice and Suzaku’s fingers spasm on her shoulder.

It hits her like a freight train. “F— You’re the one from Shinjuku,” she says, turning to Suzaku. “You’re the one he lost.”

The small smile she sees on Lelouch’s face out of the corner of her eye is both extremely soft and extremely psychotic.

“Ah, but isn’t that so unimportant? It certainly wasn’t a priority for you Suzaku so nevermind that. Here, come look.”

“You wrote a speech?” says Suzaku, stepping forward and Kallen punches him in the shoulder.

“Stay on topic!”

“He _is_ on topic,” Lelouch chimes in merrily. “And the topic now is public relations.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your damn topic how are you _here!?”_ shouts Kallen, patience run out.

Something sly passes over his face for a moment before his expression goes soft I instead. “Oh, well I simply asked and then it wasn’t so hard from there.” He shrugs, punchibly. “I’m very smart after all, Kouzuki.”

“Yeah well if you’re so smart then how the fuck do you even know that speech is the type he’d wanna give? You can’t, stupid Britannian idi—”

“Of course I don’t,” says Lelouch with a small smile. He fans a set of folders on the table. “And that’s why I wrote him five.” He flips one of them open almost at random. “All accompanied by briefs of the goal and messaging of the speech as well as appropriate follow-ups, naturally. See?” he says, tapping a finger to a page from the black folder. “This one involves the oh so subtle gesture of _assassinating_ our dear Viceroy. Cornelia li Britannia can be _so_ careless you know and—”

“Lelouch,” says Suzaku, the level of forbidding disapproval only just stifled by the dryness in his voice.

Lelouch just shoves the folder off the table with a cackle, pages swirling around theatrically as they fall. “Hah! I just wrote that one up to see your face. You honestly never fail to impress, Suzaku.”

“I’m not impressed.” Suzaku gives him his worried, confused puppy look. “Why are you here?”

Lelouch sighs dismissively. “Well, if you must know, I came home from watching my best friend get shot only to find that he had survived, been found, and then executed. I was… _displeased,”_ he grits the word out like broken glass.

“Lelouch—”

“I thought you were DEAD,” Lelouch just about shouts with jarring force, grabbing up Suzaku’s collar to yank his head up and yell in his face. “I had to hear the report when I got home from _Nunnally!!”_ His eyes are manic and enraged as he edges into a shriek. “And then I had to tell her…I had to tell her that it was _my fault_ —my sister, Suzaku!”

“She’s alright then?” 

“Gahhhh!” Lelouch screeches, letting go of Suzaku’s collar to turn away in disgust. “You—! You’re hopeless, you—” He slams a fist on the tables, making the papers jump before he sighs. One hand comes up to bush at his temples, framing his eye, then he turns back to Suzaku, face set with suppressed anger and a nasty twist to his mouth. “You certainly don’t seem surprised by all this.” 

“I knew you were alive,” says Suzaku hoarsely. “Kallen goes to Ashford.”

Lelouch’s eyes cut to her but she just glares right back. “You were being fucking dramatic all over the place and messing with my cover you dipshit, of course I mentioned it to him.”

“Ah,” Lelouch says, voice turning hollow. “And why did you not come to me then.” It’s a statement, not a question, and one pointed at the other boy like a knife.

“Lelouch,” says Suzaku, an odd finality in his voice. “I couldn’t’ve gotten you involved.”

Lelouch slaps him. 

The gesture is so like a noble, so _Britannian_ that Kallen’s mouth drops open. And the weirder part is that Suzaku _lets_ him, lets the blow rock his face to the side, allows it to _hit_ him in the first place. 

“How _dare_ you,” Lelouch hisses. His offense is palatable, outrage pouring off him as his fingers tremble in fury. “How dare you try and dictate my path, to decide for me this! How dare you try to—!”

But Suzaku skates his fingertips against where his cheek is starting to smart and looks up at Lelouch with soft eyes. “I would never leave you behind.”

Lelouch…turns bright cherry red, aristocratic complexion working against him for once.

He steps back in a way too graceful to be a stumble but still close even as it has him leaning back against Suzaku’s desk, hand over his eyes. 

“You…” he grumbles under his breath, “every goddamn time.” 

“You know I wouldn’t, how could I?” says Suzaku bemused.

“You’re an _idiot,”_ says Lelouch without venom. He rolls his shoulders, settling back against the table with a dismissive flick of his fingers. “Very well. Not going to opt for offing another Viceroy then?” he drawls, voice dry and smile punchable.

“We—!” Kallen splutters, “Suzaku didn’t kill Clovis!”

Lelouch tips his head to the side as he watches her with cold, glittering eyes. “Of course not, that was _me_ , Q-1. If Suzaku were to assassinate someone it would be for far more justified reasons than mine anyway and—”

Kallen doesn’t hear anything past the first sentence, barely registers the mug Suzaku’d picked up off his desk shattering in his hands, her ears are filled with white noise and static does its best to blot out her sight even as Lelouch jerks up, looking at Suzaku with a naked expression of horrified realization.

“Suzaku—”

“You. Killed Clovis?”

 _“Suzaku,”_ Lelouch demands, ignoring her.

“Lelouch!” snarls Kallen.

“Of course I did!” snaps Lelouch back, face twisting with a ferocity that rivals hers. “Human experimentation, _poison gas!?_ He deserved to die for what he did to Shinjuku alone! We nearly died, Suzaku got _shot_ , of course it was me!” He pulls back, reining in his temper with his last shreds of poise, “And…well, if we’re going to be _technical_ about it then legally it was well with my rights as a P—”

Lelouch breaks off as Suzaku finally restarts and wraps a hand around Lelouch’s wrist, face steely, fingers iron. “We,” he says with icy distance, “are not going to talk about that now. I—” He falters before taking a steadying breath. “Lelouch…” says Suzaku carefully, “why are you _here.”_

Something seems to pass between them and everything about Lelouch’s demeanor skews abruptly sideways again.

“Oh Suzaku,” Lelouch purrs, stepping in to cradle Suzaku’s face in his hands, running a thumb over the reddening mark on his cheek. “How could you ever think I’d let you burn Britannia to the ground without me?”

“Lelouch,” Suzaku says warningly, fingers coming up to wrap around the other boy’s wrists. “That’s not what this is.”

“Tch! I knew as much,” grumbles Lelouch sulkily, throwing himself back into Suzaku’s desk chair and rummaging through the strewn papers. “Here,” he says, extending the blue folder out to Suzaku with a crooked smile. “I believe this one will be more to your speed. I’m sure you’ll love watching the Refrain burn just as much as I will.”

* * *

“Ahh.” Lelouch eases himself against the back of the train seat, eyes closed and arms crossed. “I haven’t felt this good in years.”

Kallen watches him, hand hooked on the top rail instead as she stands on the train they’re taking back to Ashford together. “You,” she says, almost impressed, “are so not okay.” 

Lelouch’s eyes peek open and he gives her a small, satisfied smile, eyes at half-mast. “Suzaku and I were in the war together. He carried my sister more than halfway to Ashford before we had to part ways.”

And…fuck. That would do it. 

“Losing him was awful. And then the second time in Shinjuku? Abhorrent. He took a bullet for me, you know. And then with the report and all.” Lelouch’s voice stays lightly amused even as his smile starts to edge into a sneer that’s clearly not directed at her. “I honestly had no idea Suzaku was alive. I should tear out his throat with my teeth.”

Kellen can practically feel the disturbed awe creep across her face. “What the fuck is even wrong with you?” 

His laugh of response is husky and dark as he throws his arm over his eyes. “I’ve been told my family has a predisposition for dramatic insanity of sorts.”

“Excuse me, what.”

“Also…” he muses for a moment before giving a sort of ’fuck it’ shrug, “a rather notorious and pervasive habit of killing each other off.”

She gapes at his telling, pointed, and completely unabashed look. She almost slaps him, but the gesture reminds her too heavily of how he acted earlier with Suzaku.

People have called her everything from brash to reckless but no one’s ever accused Kallen of being stupid.

She punches him in the mouth instead.

“Ow,” he says, half deadpan before he smiles what looks like a (for once) genuinely delighted grin.

“You’re him. The lost—” her eyes cut to the side, wary of eavesdroppers even in their empty car. She’s pissed as fuck but he was right to try and hide. This is the type of secret that could for real get them all very, very dead.

Then she frowns. “‘Ow’?”

Lelouch’s smile widens and he winces, hand coming up to rest on his reddening jaw, but still grinning all the harder for it. “Suzaku knocked out one of my baby teeth when we were little.”

Kallen gives him a look of max incredulialism. “You mean mister pacifism here fucking slugged you?”

“Are you serious? Suzaku was a _terror_ as a child. Not to say I wasn’t a brat either but at least I kept my rage issues internalized.” Lelouch’s eyes glimmer with mischief. “Do you think this will purple? How many days will I need to fend people off? Ah, Suzaku’s cheek is probably all better by now too.” He makes a pouty, disappointed face at her at the last part.

“Well yeah that’s because I’m not a weak ass bitch like you.”

Lelouch laughs.

Kallen wants to strangle him.


	6. Phase 1.05 - Opening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trying to wrangle these plot threads and figure out where things are suppost to go in this is worse than herding cats, expect an irregular schedual (and xoxoxo to all comments!)

The radio clicks on.

[ _…Hear me Britannia and hear me Japan: we are not here to rebel._ ]

[ _Today we here are not children of Japan, but children of war and violence, children of the world. Today we are Children of Ash; not soldiers or knights, we are those born from the flames of war, that which was left in a ravaged land._ ]

[ _Poverty, disease, starvation, subjugation, powerlessness—those are the true enemies of Japan today and against them we must strive all the harder to serve. Today we Children of Ash fight not against Britannia, nor the JLF, but simply for those who cannot fight for themselves. In the face of violence against the innocent and uninvolved, we will intervene…_ ]

[That just now was part of the televised speech from the so-called “Yūrei” that was broadcast last night. How he was able to hijack the network signal is still unclear but what is known is that the speech clearly means to illustrate the newly named Children of Ash’s intent: a nominally defensive intervention, painting themselves more as vigilantes than rebels or the terrorists that they are.]

[Part of the speech very easily could be read as a reprimand to the Viceroy about her handling of the situation at Lake Kawaguchi the night before last, but more assuredly acts as a disavowment of the JLF splinter faction that terrorized those innocent lives at the hotel, many of them international guests in attendance of the Annual Sakuradite Conference that had begun that day.]

[As all of the attendees were safely evacuated, the conference will resume next week as—]

The radio clicks off. The girl who holds it gives the appliance a small frown.

* * *

She waits for him in the warmth from the light of dawn. Her windows and bed are all angled perfectly to catch and cast it upon her, letting the heat of sunlight cushion her limbs as she steadily draws a comb through her hair, thinking.

The door opens. Her head turns, tracking sounds. “Good morning,” she addresses to the patter of soft steps on carpet. 

“Nunnally,” says her brother with soft warmth and her heart grows three sizes, brimming with joy because he sounds so _happy,_ so at peace that she feels her eyes start to water, chasing away her small embers of ire.

“Onii-sama,” Nunnally reaches out and he obligingly takes her hand with one of his and oh, the _warmth_ it holds as she clutches it to her chest, holding back tears as he lays a hand on her cheek.

“Nunnally?” 

“Nii-sama.” She blinks wetness out of her eyes. Oh, even if he has disappointed her, today is such a _good_ day. “How was Suzaku-nii?” 

Lelouch freezes, one hand still on her cheek while the other goes cold before slipping from her grasp. “How—? W-what are you talking about?” 

“You’re happy,” she says, voice wobbling, fingers tracing forwards carefully until she can cup his face in her hands. 

“But I didn’t say… How…” 

“You’re _happy_ ,” she insists over his shock. “It was a lie, wasn’t it? The execution. It must have been. And Suzaku is alive, h-he _lives—”_ Tears begin to run down her face as she feels the bewildered truth from him, from his shock and joy and the trail of wetness that runs onto one of her hands.

Because the news had broken him, had broken them both but him all the more because of his own hand in the messy matter.

She remembers waiting for his return that night, needing his comfort, needing her _brother_ when she had heard the report of Suzaku’s death—only for him to crumble when she’d told him, the awful scent of smoke and blood that had clung to his clothes quickly overshadowed by the stench of horror that had rolled off of her brother and then he’d _shattered,_ sobbing into her chest as she’d wrapped tight arms around him. 

It had been the start of more than a few dark days. Oh how she had wanted to beg Milly to let her wear mourning blacks in honor of her friend. Never before had Nunnally hated her favorite pale pinks as much as when she had been forced to dress in them after their loss of Suzaku.

Now she lifts her wrist for him to see the absence of the black ribbon he had tied for her, her own private flag of mourning abandoned.

Her brother is stubborn, but only sometimes a fool. “I see,” he breathes.

She aims her frown now at him instead as it starts to edge into a pout. “I’ll forgive it just this once, I was asleep before you got back last night—but!” She smiles a threat at her brother, “next time you _will_ tell me.” 

“Yes, Nunnally,” he murmers, pressing a smile to her hand.

“Good. Now,” she says, urging him up and towards the kitchen as she wheels alongside him, “tell me. How is Suzaku?” 

* * *

“Children of Ash!” gasps Kallen, half falling out of her chair in a flurry of papers as she jolts awake. Laughter floats around the classroom and she blinks and splutters as he watches her realize where she is. Her eyes cut back to meet his and Lelouch hides his smile behind his hand.

He can’t keep it out of his eyes though and she sees it, flushing slightly. 

Her eyes then catch on his _breathtaking_ bruise before she whips back around. Oh the swarming he’d gotten this morning when he’d stepped through the door… He’d touched it up a bit sure, but it wasn’t worth it to try and hide the bruise all the way, the swelling is too noticeable to pass. Rivalz had nearly cried and Shirley, who’d come in late, has been giving him the stink eye all morning.

“Lulu!” Shirley demands, cornering him during their break. “Oh gosh what happened!? Are you okay?” 

“Oh,” said Lelouch, hand coming up to brace his cheek as if he’d forgotten. “It’s nothing.” 

“Are you kidding?” Rivalz slumps against his desk. “Your poor face!” 

“What did Nunna say!” huffs Shirley, “does she even know? You didn’t try and hide it from her, did you?” 

Oh his sister knows, had known from the second he’d opened his mouth from the change of pitch of his words.

 _“Kallen,”_ he’d said, unable to hide the curve of his grin when she’d cupped his face in her hands. _“She wasn’t pleased with me.”_

Nunnally had smiled again and patted his cheek (which had hurt, his little sister’s mean streak is adorable) and sent him off to school to get ravaged by the wolves.

Now he can’t hide his grin again as well, lip twitching when his cheek twinges as the motion. 

“Sorry Shirley, I just got some good news yesterday.

“Someone hit you!” 

“Maybe I deserved it,” Lelouch says blithely, catching Kallen hunch over her desk a bit more out of the corner of his eye. 

“Ohhh,” Shirley grumbles, “just wait until Milly sees this!”

Ah.

Yes, well, “on that I’m perfectly happy to wait.“

* * *

Milly’s wry “nice shiner, Lelouch,” is lackluster at best.

Lelouch raises a brow. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Madam President?” asks Shirley, imploring.

“Oh,” says Milly tightly and Lelouch’s smile slides off his face. “My arranged marriage with Earl Asplund is almost finalized, we’re just finishing up the marriage contract and other paperwork.”

That’s…not good. Not good for his friend and not good for what it says about his own state of mind since Shinjuku— _damn it_ Suzaku, this is something he should have noticed. 

“Milly…” he starts slowly, mentally rustling up his memories from what Suzaku had told him about the mind behind the Lancelot, “may I have a look at that contract?”


End file.
